


this doubtful feeling, it's dangerous

by aliaaaaaa



Series: webgottrash tumblr prompts [48]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6820543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a tendril of doubt winding around him, gripping his heart in tight hold; making it hard to breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this doubtful feeling, it's dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> for [ethereal-liebgott](http://ethereal-liebgott.tumblr.com/) who wanted a hurt/comfort BabeRoe, where Babe always doubts that Roe loves him and Roe will find him crying on the balcony of their shared apartment and Roe just holds him and tells him he loves him so much, and basically just a bunch of things Roe does for Babe to try to keep him happy.
> 
> and oops, it turns into serious emotional hurt/comfort instead.

He’s been sitting outside at the balcony, looking at the faraway twinkling lights of the city; a cigarette dangling from his lips as he folds his legs over the cushion underneath him. The night is calm and the wind carries the cool air over to him; gently caressing his cheeks as he blows acrid smoke to the night air, watching it disappear.

His mind is heavy.

His heart is heavy.

There’s a tendril of doubt winding around him, gripping his heart in tight hold; making it hard to breathe.

He hates himself.

He hates himself for letting this doubt lingers on his mind and in his heart.

He knows Gene loves him, but–

But–

He cannot shake the feeling that he is just a backup plan; a second choice.

It’s hard when sometimes he catches Gene at the balcony, smoking a cigarette, and holding a torn piece of blue scarf; stretching it, stroking it, folding it with care before he keeps it at the back of his jeans pocket.

He wants to steal the blue scarf and burns it, just to see it turns into ashes. But he knows he will not be happy in hurting Gene.

Even when he ends up hurting by this doubt on his mind and in his heart.

It’s harder when Gene never wants to talk about what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking; Gene will just smile and brush it off as fatigue from work, he will just smile and pull him into a slow kiss that quickly turns into heat; that quickly turns into something passionate that makes him moan against Gene’s slick skin, whispering his love for the man in his arms.

Afterwards, Gene will roll over, facing the wall, and he is left feeling empty instead of content.

(After the war was over, when the ship had docked at the port and hugs were given out and goodbyes were said, he found Gene staring at the murky sea water, lost in his own thoughts.

He stood next to Gene, wiping his sweaty palm on his pants; feeling nervous.

“Come home with me to Philly.”

Babe had said, licking his dry lips as he squinted his eyes to look at Gene.

It took Gene a while to nod his head, probably weighing the pros and cons of following Babe home.

But they were together since after Bastogne. Babe knew they had something special going on and it was not just comfort during the war.

That was why he was confident enough that Gene would come home with him. And if he had held his breath while waiting for Gene to give his consent, it was because he felt excited to start a new life with the man standing next to him; not because he was afraid Gene would say no.)

He wonders if his rash decision to ask Gene to come home with him has taken its toll on the man now. It’s been 8 months since they boarded the train to South Philly and Gene never once calls home.

Or maybe Gene did and he doesn’t know it, because Gene never tells anything to him.

He sighs and rubs his face, feeling the wetness on his fingers when he wipes his eyes.

The doubt is slowly eating him, making him question everything, making him want to leave Gene and their life together behind because right now –

Right now, he’s thinking if Gene is worth the heartache, and the sleepless night.

“Babe?”

He wipes his tears and turns to look at Gene.

And he is struck hard by how much he loves this man, how much he really wants to be with this man even when he is hurting like this.

“Welcome home,” he greets, clearing his throat when his voice breaks a bit at the word ‘home’.

Gene sits next to him on the small sofa, his thigh pressing on his and he can feel warmth seeping into his thin pajamas pants.

“What’s wrong?” Gene asks, peering at his reddened face; his eyebrows creasing slightly, his mouth sets in thin line; a perfect picture of worry.

“Nothing’s wrong. Just the cold wind,” he replies, gnawing the inside of his cheek when he feels another wave of tears threatening to wreck him.

“Don’t look like it’s nothing,” Gene quips back, his fingers wiping the unshed tear on the corner of his left eye.

He pointedly looks the orange glow of the street lamp down below, breathing hard and blinking his eyes.

He doesn’t need this.

He doesn’t need Gene to be tender with him.

He doesn’t need Gene to be gentle with him.

He doesn’t need Gene.

“Gene,” he hears himself say, feels the word come out from his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Hmm?”

He wraps his arms around his knees, pressing his chin on the sharp bony surface.

“Do you regret following me home?”

His voice is surprisingly clear and loud and when he glances to gauge Gene’s reaction, he sees the man shifting slightly, his dark eyes on him.

“Sometime, when I miss Louisiana so much but there’s nothing there for me anymore,” Gene quietly replies.

He can feel his heart being tugged so hard that the sensation travels through his body, only understanding that he is just a backup plan afterall.

It takes him a while to compose himself, afraid that if he opens his mouth too soon, all that tumble out is just a harsh sob.

“Do you love me? Or am I just a backup plan?” He asks again, eyes not leaving Gene’s face and he can hear his heart beating wildly as he digs his blunt nails on his thighs.

“Edward- You’re not a backup plan. Never. And I _love_ you. No one but you.”

He gnaws his lips and laughs. He laughs because he knows Gene is joking about loving only him.

“You love Renee,” he says simple, leaning his head back to feel the smooth wall on his head.

“I _loved_ Renee. I love you. There’s a difference,” Gene replies, his voice low and smooth and there’s a warm palm resting at his nape.

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t love me enough to let her go. And it hurts– it’s selfish– but it hurts, because I can’t get through you. I can’t read you at all. And there are times that I feel used by you and that I am a stranger to you instead of your someone,” he speaks slowly, closing his eyes to stop the burning sensation.

Gene doesn’t reply.

The only sound he can hear is his own breathing.

“You never talk about what’s bothering you. You always push me away when I want to talk about feelings with you. It’s–”

He sighs deeply, the palm on his nape feels so heavy.

“It’s frustrating. Not knowing you makes me frustrated. Having to guess what’s on your mind makes me frustrated. Having this doubt that you don’t love me, that you don’t want to be here with me makes me sad and angry.”

He shifts again to rest his elbows on his knees, fumbling with the cigarette pack and lights up another.

“I’m sorry.”

Gene says, low and heavy and quiet.

He inhales the smoke deeply, and breathes it out through his nose, picking on the dried skin on his lip.

Waiting.

“I know I’ve hurt you by not sharing what I feel, what I’m thinking.”

Another pause.

He licks his teeth and tastes ash.

“It’s difficult to talk about what’s inside my mind because everything is a cluttered mess. And I thought that I am shielding you from my own hurt if I didn’t talk about it, if I deal with it alone. But I end up hurting you instead.”

He glances only to see Gene smiling sadly.

“I still think about Renee, not because I still love her. There was no love to begin with. Not like us. What I felt for her was purely out of admiration, of shared pain from seeing too many deaths.”

Gene takes his free hand, and he lets him; weaving their fingers together and he feels something settles in his chest.

“What I feel for you is pure love, Babe. I have loved you in the coldest day in the Ardennes, where I thought I wouldn’t be warm again. I have loved you through Europe and back to Philly. I have loved only you,” Gene whispers the last part, as if he’s parting a secret too great for the world to hear.

He takes a deep breath and exhales it noisily, looking at their fingers; how they fit so well with one another, how this weight is comfortable; how he feels both happy and sad at the same time.

“You have to tell me what’s going on with you. We’ve been back to the States for 8 months now and I still haven’t gotten a clue about what’s inside your head. I know I am demanding too much from you but Gene, don’t push me away. Your burden is not yours to carry alone. You have me,” he murmurs to the cold wind and he feels Gene lifting their hands and kisses the back of his hand.

“I can’t promise you that I won’t hurt you and I can’t promise you that it will start being easier to talk about myself to you. But for you, I will try,” Gene promises, his dark eyes hooded as he looks at him.

It’s not much, but the promise makes the tightening around his heart lessens considerably, making it easier to breathe, making it easier to lean to kiss Gene gently on his lips.

It’s not much, but they have each other, willing to work out their issues and that’s enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> first posted on [webgottrash](http://webgottrash.tumblr.com/post/144193304277/okay-but-consider-this-prompt-baberoe-hurt)


End file.
